


The Lich

by Trickster_Loki



Series: The Lich [1]
Category: The Lich Trilogy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10611225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickster_Loki/pseuds/Trickster_Loki
Summary: The Prologue to a book I am writing. Hope you guys enjoy it.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Have a few chapters already written, and I'm gonna be posting them probably weekly or so until It's time to come up with new material, but I will do my best to keep you guys updated with weekly content.

How many lifetimes have I lived? How many centuries has it been since I first drew my first breath? Heh. How many has it been since I drew my last? My mind is clouded by the echoes of time and the mists of the ages. But I can still remember, no matter how I wish to forget. I remember my life and my “birth” into this curse, this madness of Undeath. And yet, I am content. I look back and I know that my existence has never been a bane of those I wanted to keep safe, those that I loved. I remember my master, a goodly man, the firm, unyielding man who protected the village of my birth, as he did in the centuries before and since. I remember my mother and father; I remember their sacrifice to save my life. Shame that that it was pointless, for the same monster that took their lives, also took mine. But I will be forever grateful for them. For if they hadn’t saved me that cold and searing night, I would never have met my Laren. My sweet, giving Laren. How long have we been parted? 300? 350? 3000? 3500 years? I don’t know anymore. Yet, I still remember the first time I saw you, watching you father put you to bed, so warm and safe you must have felt. Such pain I felt, such anger. What would have happened to me had I not been for my master, he who taught me the mysteries of the magic of the world, and showed me that what becomes of those who let their hearts be consumed by the hatred of the others, of the envy of those who are happy and have not felt the pain of great loss that comes with the loss of your family. What becomes of the monsters of this realm, and not all monsters are so easily recognized. Not all monsters are guised in scales, claws, and teeth. Most look just like the man in the market, the town watchman, the neighbor down the street. Heh. And yet how can I call another a monster without including myself in that number. After all I am what most would consider a monster, for I am a Lich. Yes a Lich. Yet, I am no monster, at least not in the sense that I am malicious in my intentions. For I am a, or at least was, one of the goodly men of the world. And, had event taken another route, I may have never become one of the undead, become a Lich. Even if I had chosen Lichdom, it would have been to explore the magic of the dead as an Arch-lich, not to say that I haven’t explored the limits of the possibilities of that realm of magic, but I did not want the choice to be force upon me. Not like that. In my first memories of my new life of Undeath, were Madness and the calling of one so evil, that my very soul seemed to freeze, even as my bones burned. My name is Jakant Sazzak, a lich, and this is my story of my life, and my death.


	2. New Born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Story begins in Ernest now, and a few characters show up.

The piercing cry of a child goes through the late autumn night, like an arrow in moonless night seeking the heart of the monster that looks over the village with greed in it blacken, dead heart. It doesn’t know why that cry frightens it so, but he marks well the house that it springs from. As he slinks away into the dark the child quiets and is handed to his mother, for the first time. As the doctor lets the proud father and mother know that the plague, which strikes three out of the four births in the village from the very cursed land that their homes are built on, is not infected in this child. As the mother breaths a heavy sigh of relief, for her own sister, not more than two months earlier, lost her daughter to the cursed sickness that attacks in the womb, which rots them from the inside out; until they resemble the undead that wander the forest that surrounds the village. The children, who are dead even as they grow, are burned as soon as a bonfire can be raised, lest they join the hordes of undead that gather every so often to attack the village. But this is far from the minds of Harkean and Veiena Sazzak. All that is on their minds right now is their baby boy, a boy that they name Jakant. They have no idea of the great destiny that is laid upon the now sleeping baby’s shoulders, and if someone had told them, they would have scoffed the notion away. After all they were just a couple of poor farmers that make their living with the rest of their friends and neighbors. When the monsters came, as they often did now that winter was almost there, the first snow should be any day now, they would drop their shovels and pitchforks and pick up their rusty swords and maces, for living in the very fringes of the wilderness everyone knew their way around a sword or mace. And if, unlike the small raiding parties of goblins that were the norm, a giant or Orcish war party came to their small village, the village leader, an ancient and powerful wizard that lived in a tower since the village was just the tower, would come out onto his balcony and rain fire and lighting onto the monsters until they ran or were no more. Not to say that was the only time they saw him, for every year, during a warmest day after the last snows melted, he would host a banquet and the entire village was invited. For a whole week, every spring, right before the crops were planted, there would be food, games, tricks of light from the master wizard. And the years where there was an early frost or when the goblin bands and the undead hordes attacked more frequently then was the norm, and the crop was slight or non-existent, no one in the village went hungry. During one such winter one of the villagers asked him why he would do such a kind thing for them. His answer was a simple as it was powerful.  
“I give you,” he said, “only what you have giving me over the years. You and your neighbors give me a portion of your crop every year and you say that it is your rent for living here, even though I have never asked for rent, nor expected or needed it. This land is as much mine as it is yours. In the past I have tried to return it, but your neighbors, and you yourself, refused it and have said that you wish to give more. So I have kept it, so when times are lean I can give it back. For, since you forced Land-lordship (something that I do not desire,) I shall be a landlord that I can be proud of. For I have seen tyrants and I have seen dictators, and I have seen kings that seen their subjects to the gallows for a whim. Yet, I have seen kings who were at the front line of a battlefield which they fell in protection of their subjects’ rights and lives. Leaders who have gone into poverty to hire a dam builder so their subject should no longer fear the yearly flood. I wish to be as good as them. I can only hope you seen me the same way as the subjects that live under those goodly kings and leaders see them.”  
By the time he had finished all of the people who were in attendance, from the youngest to the oldest, had tears in their eyes, and they knew they were truly lucky to have such a kind landlord. Especially since they knew of his true identity. For, although with his silver hair and wizened appearance of an old man in his seventies or eighties, Master Chrovs DesCrak was as dead as the monsters that lurk in the forest. For Master DesCrak was a lich.   
As the night wore on, the village doctor went to his home to his wife and left Harkean and Veiena to their child, now sleeping soundly in the crib that Harkean made in the weeks previously, and Harkean looking down lovingly on his sleeping form.  
“That kid has some lungs on him, don’t he,” asked Harkean to Veiena with his deep, rumbling voice that sounded like his throat was made of gravel and an amused expression on his face.  
“Well, we best get use to it, for that is all we will be hearing for the next year or so,” replied Veiena.  
“I suppose so,” Harkean laughed.  
“Shh. You will wake Jakant, and I would like to get some sleep. It has been a trying day for me, if you forgot already,” Veiena Scolded.  
“Sorry,” Harkean apologized, “but I don’t think anything could wake this one. Just to be sure though, I will get the light and we can go to bed.”  
But, just to prove him wrong, Jakant awoke then with another piercing cry.  
“Now look at what you’ve done,” groaned Veiena.  
“Ha-ha. Oops. Come here little buddy. It is all ok. Nothing is wrong go back to sleep now.”  
As Harkean picked up Jakant and said these words, Jakant did quiet, but he did not go back to sleep. Instead he gazed up at his father’s bearded face as if trying look into his soul. Then he giggled and sighed, finding whatever he was looking for in the sparkling eyes of his father, and went back to sleep, content for the night to sleep and dream of things unknown.   
As Harkean and Veiena go to sleep as well, happy that their son is a healthy and strong, the think of the trials ahead, for winter was close, indeed the first snows would begin to fall outside before dawn and the village would wake to sheet of snow, the herald of the cold and bitter winter ahead, but they had a good crop and should something happen to it, their neighbors will help as will Master DesCrak. So they sleep and in the morning after awaking to their surprise of snow, they take their son to their neighbors and family throughout the day for their son to be ohh! and ahh! at. As the day wears down and the day’s festivities wound down, they started to discuss the winter ahead. Harkean and Veiena tried to tell their friends that they could take care of themselves, but Veiena’s sister and her husband were adamant in their insistence that they should stay with them, at least until the spring banquet.   
“The Spring Banquet? That is almost 6 months away,” exclaimed Veiena.  
“Yes we know, but we are worried for you, that’s all. After all what sort of big sister would I be if I didn’t,” asked Lana-lee.  
“I know but we are perfectly safe out there. You know that.”  
“But you are so close to the Forest, and nearly a quarter mile from your nearest neighbors,” pressed Lana-lee.  
“So are you, if you remember. As for the Forest, the wards will keep away the dead. You know that.”  
“Not necessary and you know that, Veiena and so do you Harkean,” stated Myavran, Lana-lee’s husband, in his quiet, but powerful voice, “As for our distance from our neighbors, we are much closer than a quarter mile, and we are more toward the center of the village then you.”  
“But...” Veiena began, when a voice from the other side of the front door spoke, making all present jump a little, save for little Jakant, who was sleeping in the crib that was suppose to go to his cousin.  
“Boy you stubborn aren’t you,” came the question which was followed by a knocking on the door.  
“What,” asked Myavran, as he rose and answered the door, “Who is it?”  
As Myavran opens the door, the collected group gasps, for it is Master Chrovs DesCrak.  
“Master DesCrak,” exclaims Harkean, “what are you doing here?”  
“Haven’t I asked you not to call me ‘Master’ before, Harkean,” asked Master DesCrak with a pained expression.  
“Sorry,” Harkean apologizes, “I forgot that you don’t like to be called that.”  
“It is quite alright,” Master DesCrak says, “As for your question, I am here to for two things. The first is to tell you that you should stay with your Sister-in-law for the winter, and from what I heard from down the street, I know that Lana-lee and Myavran are in agreement with me.”  
“What of our home, and our crops that we just finished harvesting? You cannot expect up to just leave them to rot,” counters Veiena, “our entire live are there.”  
“I do not expect you to not go back to your house at all, child. I just do not think you should live there for a while, that is all. As for your crops, bring a quarter of them here, and I shall hold the rest in my storage room, and you shall be given back your crops as you need them.”  
“That won’t be necessary,” says Myavran, “after all we planted more then we needed this year.”  
“After all we thought that we would have another mouth to feed,” whispers Lana-lee, and when they all look towards her, they see that her eyes are cast down and full of tears.  
“Oh Lana-lee, I’m so sorry. See that is the main reason we shouldn’t stay, Mr. DesCrak,” said Veiena.  
“No, it is ok, and I want you here. Besides,” Lana-lee says with a smile growing on her face, “maybe it will be different this time.”  
For a moment there is a stunned silence, than a cheer is raised by all who are there, which in turn awakens the sleeping Jakant, who is in the other room. As Harkean goes to comfort him, Veiena embraces her sister and asks, “Since when? When did you find out?”  
“Well,” Lana-lee says, “I suspected it two weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure until last week. I didn’t want to say anything, in case I was wrong, but I asked Doctor Zafani, and he confirmed it yesterday.”  
“Honey, this is great. When did Doctor Zafani say you were due,” Myavran asks.  
“Mid to late spring was his guess.”  
“So,” Veiena says, “right after or not long after the Spring Banquet then?”  
“Yes,” Lana-lee answers as new tears well up in her eyes and stream down her cheeks.   
“New life of the year and new life to be born, I feel that this is an omen of good luck for you,” Master DesCrak says with a smile.  
“Yes I feel like it is so as well,” mentions Harkean from the doorway with Jakant in his arms.  
As he walks back into the room, he hands Jakant to Veiena, who takes him and checks to see if he is hungry or wants to go back to sleep, and ask his wife, “So have we decided on what we are doing for the winter?”  
“Well,” she says as she finds that Jakant is content and doesn’t want to go back to sleep or is hungry, “I want to go back home, I do not want to be a bother.”  
At this Master DesCrak sighs and says, “I would much rather you were here this winter. In fact I think I must insist.”  
“Why Mr. DesCrak,” asks Myavran, “Is it really that important?”  
“Yes,” Master DesCrak gravely says, “it is. Although, should I tell you the reason, that knowledge cannot leave this room for it may cause immense panic.”  
“What is it,” Veiena asks in a subdued voice.  
“The wards are weakening around that corner of the village, and I will be much easier to reinstate them if there are not people underfoot,” Master DesCrak explains.  
“The wards can weaken? How can that be,” Lana-lee asks in a frighten voice.  
“Oh that’s simple. The magic wares down as time progresses. The Wards stay strong for fifty to sixty years or so, and then they begin to weaken, at a frighteningly quick pace. And it is much easier to strengthen a ward that is in place then it is to make a new one from scratch.”  
“But how do you know when a ward weakens. How do you know that this ward time was up a year ago, how do…” Rambles Lana-lee, as she starts to grow hysterical from fear.  
“No,” interrupts Master DesCrak, “I know instantly when they start to weaken, for they are connected to me, as I am connected to them. And, to answer that question that I see in your eyes, it will be another ten to fifteen years before the next one starts to weaken. I did that purposely.”  
“Oh, that’s good,” Lana-lee replies in a relived voice, “but how long will it take to repair the ward?”  
“It should take me about a month to make all of my preparations for it, and another three to four months to complete the, as you put it, repairs on the ward.”  
“So we have a month to prepare to go to Lana-lee and Myavran’s home for the winter,” asks Veiena.  
“It would be best if you were out within the week, a ten-day at most.”  
“But why such a small amount of time?”  
“For as the ward weakens, less and less ground is protected, and the barrier shrinks to protect the main structure, or in this case, the village, and the barrier may exclude your home after too much time has passed,” explains Master DesCrak.  
“Oh, I see now,” Veiena says.  
“So we have a week to pack,” Harkean says, “but what of our crops, and our home?”  
“Your home shall be safe,” Master DesCrak informs Harkean, “for no undead of the forest can stand to be near me if I do not want them there, as for your crops, I suppose, since Myavran and Lana-lee are adamant on hosting you, I can buy them if you wish, but I do not know what you would want for them. I can give you gold or silver, but…”  
“We have no use for such foolish things, after all, merchants rarely come here and, when they do, they come here because they have been robbed, or are lost,” replies Harkean.  
“Ha-ha. Very true, but there must be something that I can do for you, I must do something as payment.”  
“We shall figure that out later,” Mentions Harkean, “for there is plenty of time for that later, but there is something that you said that was disquieting. You said that the undead of the forest could not bear your presence and that you are connected to the wards as the wards are connected to you. Does that mean that the wards are, in truth, just your projection of your presence that repels the undead, and if anything happened to you, the wards would vanish at the same time?”  
As the silence that followed his reasoning deepened, and the implications of his reasoning sunk in, all eyes went to Master DesCrak, who had a grave look on his face once again.  
“You are a very intelligent man, Mr. Harkean Sazzak,” Master DesCrak replies, “and your reasoning is sound and true. Yes the wards are just a projection of my presence, and yes if anything happened to me, the wards would fail. But do not be frighten, I am old, and I am powerful, not many can defeat me, and I do not have any enemies, at least to my knowledge I don’t.”  
“Hmm…ok,” say Harkean, “So Mr. DesCrak, what was the other reason that you came to see us?”  
“Oh,” Master DesCrak exclaims, “I nearly forgot. I came to congratulate you on the birth of your son, and to see him.”  
“Well, here he is Mr. DesCrak,” Veiena says, “Nice and healthy, with such piercing green eyes and an even more piercing voice.”  
“Well so he is,” stats Master DesCrak, “Hi there little fella, I am Chrovs DesCrak. I…” He stops as Jakant turns and looks right into his eyes, and Master DesCrak knows, in that small glance, there is power in this child, for he knows that glanced looked straight into his soul, and he knows that the child sees past all of his illusions and sees the truth of him. Then, as if it never happened, the child yawns and cuddles up to his mother, perfectly content, and Master DesCrak, who has seen the rise and fall of many centuries and have seen many things in his long life, is speechless. For he knows that if Jakant is trained in the arts, he can become a powerful force in the world, be it good or evil and can shape the destinies of many.  
“Harkean,” Master DesCrak asks, “how about I train your child in the mysteries of magic for payment for the crops?”  
“Magic? But I highly doubt that my son has that sort of power in him,” Harkean replies.  
“You’re wrong,” Master DesCrak says in a hushed voice, “your son has great power within him, and he has the possibility of becoming one of the most powerful magic wielding people in all the world, maybe even more powerful than myself, if he can learn to unlock and wield it.”  
“Really? My boy can become a wizard such as yourself,” asked Veiena  
“Or perhaps a Spellsword or a Mage. He is too young yet for me to tell, but he does have power, that much is clear,” replied Master DesCrak.  
“When would you start training him? Right away,” asked Harkean with a strange look upon his face.  
“Not until the child is at least eleven or twelve. And then he will still be home every night.”  
“Really,” Harkean said with a happy look on his face again, “so he won’t be up in that tower for his entire life, he will have a childhood if we agree to this?”  
“Of course Harkean, and even during training, it will only be during the afternoons anyways,” replied Master DesCrak with a laugh.  
“What do you think dear? Should we have him train him,” Harkean asks Veiena, “It is as much of your decision as it is mine.”  
“I think,” she began, “that if he has this power, then we should let him train in it, but if he does not wish to train, then we must not force him to, but I say we should let him at least have the chance to. I am in agreement.”  
“Very well,” Harkean agreed, “we are both willing to let you train our son, but if he does not wish to learn, then no one shall force him.”  
“As you wish, but you should know that if I start to open the door, it may never be able to close again, but that is something to be discussed with your son as well as you. So I shall get going, for it is late and there is much preparation to be done. So, good evening and I shall be completely prepared by the next full moon and be completed before the Spring Banquet.”  
“Good night Mr. DesCrak. Have a pleasant walk home,” said Lana-lee as she and her husband walked him to the door.  
“And to you as well Mr. and Mrs. Ropers. I shall see you all at the Banquet. Until then, farewell.”  
As Master DesCrak leaves and walks up the dusty street to his tower, he cannot help but think of the lies that he had to tell today.  
“At least they do not know that the wards are not supposed to weaken, that it was an attack by another, and powerful, spell caster,” Master DesCrak thought, “But they do not need to know that. I got the Sazzaks out of the area for the winter, and that is enough for now. And that young boy of theirs, he will be powerful, but I cannot see if he will use that power for good or evil yet, I will have to watch him.”  
As Master DesCrak chases his thoughts around in circles, the Sazzaks are heading home as well, for in the morning they will start to pack and be moved to Lana-lee and Myavran’s home before the sun sets on the third day of their allotted week. As the winter moves on as winter does, and the Sazzaks and the Ropers talk about that visit from Master DesCrak, Master DesCrak repairs the broken Ward that was attacked by an unknown foe, and, though he is concerned, he is also excited about a new pupil after nearly 65 years. As the winter freeze thawed and spring grows from the ice and snow, everyone’s lives continued on as always. Jakant grew into a strong toddler and do what toddlers do, Veiena was busy keeping Jakant out of trouble, which he was always seem to get himself into; Harkean went back to his field to plant the years new crops, and helped Myavran with his fields, for Myavran slipped on a patch of spring ice and hurt his leg; Lana-lee gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, which was as healthy as the best of them; and Master DesCrak continued his study of the Arcane powers of the world in preparation to train the young Jakant. As the years progressed, Jakant grew from a toddler who could barely walk and was always where he shouldn’t be, to a boy, who ran and played with the other children in the village, though, for some reason, he always seemed sickly, and weak. And though out all this time, It watched the Village, unknown by any, even Master DesCrak, and from its perch on the mountain and drew together his minions; the goblins and Ogres of the caves, and the highwaymen and the bandits that basked in cruelty to their fellow man, as if it were an exquisite bath; and he waited for the time to strike at the boy who put a cold fear in his heart.


End file.
